


fill my hollow

by litteringfire (heartrapier)



Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 11:36:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6703123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartrapier/pseuds/litteringfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“I will walk you home,” Chrono said. It was a strangely indisputable statement. </p>
</blockquote>By a series of questionable coincidences, Chrono ends up with Ibuki's hand in his.
            </blockquote>





	fill my hollow

**Author's Note:**

> set post-myoujin, chrono in his third year of middle school. the initial prompt was "accidental date" but i think it sorta?? derailed???

The weather had been rather agreeable in the morning.

The sun was out and there was barely any cloud. For being the end of summer, it didn’t have the scorching heat that had tanned Chrono’s skin terribly, or the humidity that stuck your clothes to your sweat-drenched body. The wind was just the right amount of warm to relish in, and trees that lined up the street were still blanketed with leaves that would make acceptable cover from the sunlight.

At first glance, the sky seemed intent to maintain this condition the whole day, and Chrono decided firsthand that the weather report’s concern for rain was overblown. He’d forgotten where they kept the umbrella, anyway, and it wasn’t so big a deal that Chrono would delay heading out to school for.

They had lunch under one of the towering trees by the courtyard. The breeze was gentle enough not to sweep their cards off the playmat spread on the grass. Each of them had an appointment to answer to after school, so, with discreet reluctance, Chrono sighed and understood they wouldn’t be stopping by Card Capital #2 that afternoon.

It wasn’t as if Chrono wouldn’t, because by the time the bell signaled the end of school for the day and the four of them parted ways, he’d made a determined beeline for the store.

It was just his luck that Ibuki was lounging by the counter when he entered the building.

Ibuki backed away from what seemed strangely reminiscent of an intimate whispering session with Kamui. The highschool student, on the other hand, looked less guilty and waved his hand in excited greeting, pointing out the new booster packs they’d put in stock.

Chrono eyed Ibuki warily and went around the older man’s wiry stature to inspect the box in question. Kamui was grinning. Ibuki might be looking at him through the gaps between his hair that was dropping over half his face, who knew.

“Why are you here?” Chrono asked at last. It sounded hurried.

It was Kamui who answered. “Why, to play, of course!”

“No,” Ibuki said, pinching on the bridge of his nose. Lifting his chin to regard Chrono next to him, he made to clarify, “I’m not here for that.” And then, as if remembering something, he added, “Or for you.”

Chrono gave him an incredulous look, “Good. Otherwise I will scream stalker right here and now.”

“Geez, you two,” Kamui cringed loudly, leaning over the counter, “must this go on? For a bit there it looked like you guys were flirting.”

For some reason or another, Chrono was sure he sported a similar expression with Ibuki, if Kamui’s breathless laughter was any indication. He allowed a sideway glare at the self-proclaimed adult he’d been implied to seduce, only to catch himself startled by the resigned gaze on Ibuki’s face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, shoulder muscles tightened.

Chest heaving, Ibuki made a strange picture. He hadn’t seemed as proud and stiff as he tended to do every time Chrono stumbled upon him, either by accident or on purpose. Right here, in the lax confinement of Card Capital #2, Ibuki was relaxed and well on the verge of collapsing into a graceless rest.

Chrono shuddered when Ibuki’s lips quirked into a smile.

“Are your friends not with you?”

It took Chrono a while to register that Ibuki had thrown a question back at him instead of answering. “They’re busy,” he said quickly, “are you okay? You’re acting weird.”

“I’m fine,” Ibuki waved him off just as hastily. It was more of a motion made by a man baffled by other people’s worry than unwillingness to share.

A sort of silent pride bloomed in Chrono’s chest the moment Kamui piped up with an indignant huff. “Listen to that, Ibuki. Even Chrono noticed. Go home and drink your medicines.”

The relief turned into surprise; Chrono whipped his head backwards at Kamui and asked, in a low, counting tone, “Medicines? This old man is sick?”

“Yeah, the idiot fainted in front of the store this morning,” Kamui hummed, jabbing a thumb at Ibuki. “He was just leaving.”

“And that’s what I will do,” Ibuki straightened, and strode towards the exit with a clarity that made him appear strong and not-sick. From the way he practically slid on the floor, it was obvious that Ibuki intended to leave the conversation as soon as he could.

Chrono looked back and forth between the closing door and Kamui.

“He refused to go to the hospital,” Kamui said, one fist pressed on a cheek, “Shin-san said he had a fever, looked like it’s better now, though. Still, I wonder if he can make it back safely.”

Kamui didn’t have to finish—Chrono had dashed for the door on the first mention of Ibuki’s familiar stubbornness, mumbled his goodbye, and literally flew down the stairs to catch up.

“Old man!” Chrono yelled, but immediately found it was redundant to raise his voice in the first place. Ibuki had barely left the bottom of the stairs.

He let satisfaction wash over him, however, with the way Ibuki glanced upwards in poorly-concealed shock and blinked.

Sometime between the end of school and his exit from Card Capital #2, the sky had darkened considerably. There was no doubt whatsoever that a drizzle would probably be the kindest thing the clouds would give out in place of heavy rain; everyone hoped for this as they speed-walked along the sidewalk. Chrono focused, instead, on Ibuki’s searching stare on him.

“I will walk you home,” Chrono said. It was a strangely indisputable statement.

“You don’t have to,” Ibuki said. It was utterly laced with disbelief.

Spinning on his heel, Ibuki began walking away. Chrono stepped forward and grabbed onto Ibuki’s sleeve.

“Shut up. Do you think I would leave a sick person alone?” It was a rhetorical question, in all honesty, but Chrono had expected Ibuki to keep up the banter anyhow, if only to shake off the enveloping awkward silence.

Ibuki didn’t make any attempt to reply. Looking down at his bunched sleeve in chrono’s hand, he said, “You don’t have the obligation to care for everyone,” and dragged his feet forward.

Chrono wanted to answer. He dove into a list of answers in his mind, and picked up none. Tugging on Ibuki’s forearm, he chose, instead, to walk by his side.

They had just walked a mere few hundreds of metres before the rain came down hard. The droplets fell heavy and loud; the sounds muffled every other noise in the area and blurred eyesights. In the curtain of water it created, lights from nearby buildings were their only guide.

Chrono panicked and pulled on Ibuki’s sleeve, hauling them both towards the closest source of lights; Ibuki either followed along with Chrono’s whims or was simply that weightless.

As it turned out, they had taken shelter on the front door of a family restaurant. Compared to the harsh waterfall outside, the inside of the diner had radiated warmth and comfort and, moreover, dryness. Chrono must have looked somewhat longingly at the atmosphere it contained, since Ibuki took one glance at him and decided they should go in.

“It won’t be stopping anytime soon,” Ibuki had tried to reason, slipping his wet hair (long as it was, Chrono was disgusted to see water squeezed off the thick strands) over his shoulder, “and this is dinner time.”

Ibuki was right about the rain. The cold was starting to prickle at his skin, too. Chrono saw no benefits in refusing, and initiated to push the door open at Ibuki’s subtle nod.

Ushered to an empty table and given a towel to dry off with, Chrono and Ibuki stuffed themselves on opposite seats and ordered food off the top of their head. Ibuki had, rather insufferably, ordered one hot tea and nothing else. Chrono added chicken soup and rice onto the list.

Left with a glass of water each as the waitress went off to pass their orders to the cook, the two of them leant back and sat voiceless for a while. It seemed to Chrono that Ibuki wasn’t in the mood to look him up in the eye, much less talk—but, despite the inevitable cold of their drenched clothes, the colouring on Ibuki’s face had brightened. Chrono feared it was a fever making its way back to Ibuki’s more vulnerable body, but a quick swipe at Ibuki’s forehead did not indicate any raise in temperature. Still, he warned Ibuki to tell him if he was feeling worse.

He didn’t have enough trust in Ibuki to keep to that warning, though. He made a note to check every few minutes.

Beyond all expectations, it was Ibuki who spoke first. “Do you always help people out like this?”

Something within Chrono stilled. He realised, slowly, that he was alone with Ibuki, technically locked up inside a rain cage, and that they had plenty of time to talk. Questions rose one after another, stuck in his throat.

He made way for a reply, “If I want to help them, why not?”

Ibuki’s eyes were unreadable. Then again, his hair was still a dreary mess sticking on the sides of his cheeks, shadowing his expression; the towel perched over his head was the only thing out of place from Ibuki’s usual placid figure.

“There is no reason to want to help someone.” Chrono said. It was another indisputable statement.

Their gazes were level now, and Chrono was entirely concentrating on returning Ibuki’s intensity that he almost missed the formation of a smile under the man’s shaded face.

“Thanks.”

The word was said softly, over a thin platform of sincerity. It was near inaudible; not only because of the muffled rainfall but also because of Ibuki’s strained voice. There were several things Chrono could understand: 1) Ibuki was thanking him, 2) Ibuki’s throat was sore, 3) _Ibuki was thanking him_ , and 4) _Ibuki_ , 5) was _thanking_ , 6) _him_.

Face flushed, Chrono stood up abruptly from his seat.

The sudden motion knocked the table over and the glasses of water on top of it spilled their content onto Ibuki.

Chrono was in the middle of scolding, “Drink your water—” when it all occured.

Thankfully, Ibuki’d had the mind to hold onto the glasses before they could roll over and shatter on the floor. Chrono had to blink out the shock from his eyes first, until he was utterly overwhelmed with embarrassment to finally call a waiter over and ask for something to wipe the spillage with.

Since his seat would need to dry, Ibuki had been asked to move to the other end of Chrono’s seat. Chrono was glad it had been a long chair that could be occupied by three people at most. The waiter excused himself; Ibuki and Chrono nodded, the latter more gratefully and sheepish.

“You made a nuisance out of yourself for the workers,” Ibuki said. His tone was fairly patronising, but there was a faint hint of endearment.

Chrono apologised again, shifting to watch Ibuki towel the front of his clothes and trousers. On Ibuki’s face, the smile from before remained. If anything, all it had done in the past few minutes during the incident was widen, growing more edged.

But guilt outweighed amazement. “Sorry.”

Ibuki chuckled. If Chrono hadn’t known better, he would’ve accepted that he was in the twilight zone by now. “Don’t worry.”

The family restaurant was full. There were of course families all over, with people of various ages spread around the many tables. Some people wore what Chrono could recognise as Kamui’s school uniform, while others wore less distinct clothing. They were loud by themselves; talking within their own circle, the sounds piled on top of one another until it buzzed into incomprehensible words. Chrono had been tuning them out in favour of observing Ibuki, and the thought made his head swim.

Beside him, Ibuki coughed. Chrono threw a hand over Ibuki’s forehead and pressed on it.

His hand vibrated; Ibuki was laughing, finding the situation amusing, no doubt. That, or he was terribly ill to the point of getting delirious.

“You care for people so much,” Ibuki said.

Embedded in his voice was wonder and awe, though most of it was dispersed in the coughing that followed. Pressing a hand on his mouth, it was as if Ibuki wanted to hide those feelings.

Chrono was watching Ibuki’s gestures. It clawed at his inside, the way Ibuki was so revealing, _so open_ , right here in front of him, between the two of them. The situation gave off the aura of privacy, and Chrono had somehow managed to become wedged inside Ibuki’s veiled space.

“Stop taking things on by yourself,” Chrono said.

It was one of the many things he’d always wanted to say. Always wanted to shove at Ibuki’s face.

He searched for Ibuki’s line of sight from the abundance of hair and drooping towel and knew he couldn’t afford to stop when he’d just started. So he continued, in a whisper, “You are always doing things, and you never let other people in on it.”

“But I did.”

For Ibuki to interject was something Chrono didn’t see coming, but he dismissed the older man’s indignance in favour of finishing up.

“Not only the big things!” Chrono said, huffing. “The small things, too. Everyday things. Like being sick. Like now. You were probably going to coop up at home, taking care of yourself, or just sleeping around hoping you will get better by the time you wake up.”

Ibuki didn’t reply; Chrono took this as quiet resignation.

As they sat there in intimidating silence, the waitress arrived with their orders; one hot tea, mineral water, omurice, and chicken soup and rice.

It might have been an attempt to change the topic, but Ibuki commented, “That’s a lot of dinner for one person.”

Chrono hummed and swiped a spoonful of rice. “It’s not only for me.”

If Ibuki thought Chrono wouldn’t tread on the topic anymore, then shame, because Chrono was fully intent on surprising him into submission. He pointed the spoon at Ibuki’s mouth.

“Let people spoon-feed you, for once.” Chrono said this with half-hearted shyness, tenacity overpowering self-consciousness.

Ibuki blinked, squinting his eyes.

“Come on, everyone is looking,” Chrono hissed, nudged Ibuki’s mouth open with the spoon.

“But I’m not hungry,” Ibuki said, sounding somewhat child-like.

Chrono rolled his eyes and shoved the rice into Ibuki’s open mouth, handing him the spoon to scoop the soup next. “Yeah, but you’re sick, you need to get warm. Eat as much as you can.”

After one slow sip on the soup in question, Ibuki tilted his head sideways. Chrono ducked to focus on his own omurice dinner, grumbling about irresponsible adults in the meanwhile. Since Ibuki seemed to find something in Chrono he wanted to understand, Chrono merely let him get away with the staring. At least Ibuki was obediently following his order to eat, which, now that Chrono thought about it, was kind of a bizarre accomplishment.

There was steam coming out from his omurice. Chrono blew on parts he’d sliced and bit onto one carefully. Warmth flooded within him, and he sighed in relief. He hadn’t even known he was shivering from the cold.

It relieved him, that Ibuki was feeling something similar. That the wet clothes sticking to his pale figure were drying, and the soup was warming up his stomach.

All Chrono had over Ibuki was a heart for attention, a heart whose spots were waiting to be filled with compromises.

But Ibuki said, “It won’t be good to get me used to getting spoiled,” and laughed, their shoulders a hairsbreadth.

And Chrono knew it was a victory to be celebrated.

“Spoiling you can’t be as irritating as your usual self,” Chrono grinned. He was giddy. “It won’t be that bad.”

“You’re going to regret this eventually,” Ibuki said, his words alarming. However, there was the ever-present smile on his face, and the fondness lacing his voice.

“We will see,” Chrono said.

The rain lasted a little more than a couple of hours. They didn’t talk very much beyond the small topics (“Don’t you dare go order a coffee right now. I need you asleep when we get you home.” “I have stuff to do.” “Is it urgent?” “....” “Sleep. You can finish them when you’re awake and better.”) and the layer of calm enveloping them was comfortable. Chrono caught himself dazing off a number of times.

On the other hand, the drizzle persisted.

“We can make it to the station if we run,” Ibuki said, and, without waiting for Chrono’s response, stood up. Chrono scrambled after him.

“The station is still quite a distance from here.” Chrono said, half-jogging, “Can we stop by a convenience store first for an umbrella?”

Ibuki gave him a look. “All right.”

By the cashier, Ibuki took out his wallet and prevented Chrono from taking out his own. There was much arguing, in which one side consisted of refusing to let a sick person pay, while the other side countered with the common sense that the adult of the two should take the responsibility. The person behind the cash register looked on in bafflement, and at last Chrono gave up if only for the sake of giving the cashier a break.

Thankfully there was a convenience store right next door. It was Chrono who found the aisle where umbrellas were situated; Ibuki stood by the sliding doors as if he was only there to wait. When Chrono slid over to pay, Ibuki beat him to it.

“Just one?” Ibuki asked once he was handed his change.

Chrono threw his hands up in exasperation. “I thought you’d get one for yourself?”

Ibuki glanced at the folded umbrella, and decided, “We can share.”

“If it can even fit us both,” Chrono grumbled, unraveling the belt.

As it turned out, it did. The umbrella had a huge black canopy, and although Chrono and Ibuki had to press their sides against each other, it was more than capable of covering the two of them from rain. Chrono forced Ibuki, being the taller one, into holding the handle, and without much ceremony they made their way down the sidewalk.

Glued to Ibuki like this, Chrono could almost feel the heat radiating from Ibuki’s body. It was partly due to the stark cold of rain that the comparison was so prominent. There was no doubt about it: Ibuki was having a fever.

He slipped his fingers around the empty space of the handle below Ibuki’s hand. It was an attempt to support, at best.

Chrono let Ibuki buy the tickets for him.

“This is the first time I go to your place,” he said, and froze. The actual extent of this situation was finally registered in his glazed mind.

“You’re the first,” Ibuki said. “I’ve never invited anyone over before.”

Chrono gaped. “Oh,” he whispered, “sorry for inviting myself over.”

“Don’t worry,” Ibuki said, handing him the ticket easily.

It was way past rush hour. The carriage was lax with a handful number of people, most of which were distracted by their phones. Chrono and Ibuki sat by the seats closest to the door, the umbrella folded by their feet. Music filled the air, a soft sound that could barely be made out unless amplified. The ride was humdrum; the vibrations and jolts caused by the frictions against the rails were monotone. In fact, it was a lot like singing him to sleep.

Chrono’s heart imploded when Ibuki’s head fell on one of his shoulders.

Ibuki was asleep.

Until Chrono fervently shook him by the arms, that was. “You need to tell me the stops before you can pass out on me, old man!”

Ibuki dazedly told him, citing each change of station and stop, and proceeded to lay his head back on the junction before Chrono’s collarbone.

Their limbs were piled on top of each other, a bodily mess. Chrono dragged one hand upwards to rest on Ibuki’s hair, and ran his fingers through them, tapping on the back of his head once every few seconds. Ibuki’s face was red and his breath was jagged, but each stroke on his hair seemed to give him comfort.

The day had started off decently enough. Now it was becoming night, and Chrono could hardly vouch for normalcy anymore.

A panorama of the bright city in the dark backdropped the ride, painting the windows. Leant back on his seat, caressing the top of Ibuki’s head, Chrono browsed through the stars dotted on the sky. He counted them down, catching up with the speed of the train, and realised, on the 80th count, that the rain had ceased to fall. On the 95th count, Ibuki squirmed and pressed closer. It was on the 243rd count that the train finally arrived at their stop.

Chrono shifted his hand down to Ibuki’s cheek and gently slapped him awake. “Can you walk? I don’t think I can carry you out by myself.”

Ibuki walked, but his steps were unsteady, and in fear of having him slip down the stairs, Chrono held him by the hand and dragged him past the automatic gate.

Their fingers intertwined over one another. Ibuki didn’t put any strength into it, but Chrono squeezed their hands together and practically shoved Ibuki to walk ahead of him.

The road was deserted except for a few drunks and a group of students. They’d gone past a couple of streetlights which flickered out of life, and for each one Chrono had jumped, startled by the sudden darkness, to hang onto Ibuki’s arm.

This was a foreign area for Chrono; this was closer to the Star Gate Branch than it was to the Dragon Empire Branch, and it was out of the way from the nearest shopping district. Apartments lined up next to each other. The view had become so commonplace that Chrono was momentarily confused when Ibuki turned into one of the complexes.

Compared to the other buildings, the complex they were heading for was tinier. It was two stories tall at most, with wooden layouts and slate roofing. Climbing up the stairs, Ibuki stopped by the first door on the second floor and grappled with the content of his pocket for the key.

It seemed that Ibuki’s mind was too muddled to the point of not even thinking to let go of Chrono’s hand despite the difficulty it gave him to turn the key around with his left hand.

The inside of the small apartment was dreary. In the darkness, it had seemed humid, but even after Ibuki turned on the lights, the only impression that changed for Chrono was that it was brighter.

It was a 1LDK room with a couch on one corner and a door leading to what Chrono guessed to be the bedroom. The kitchen they walked past seemed barely touched; there were only a few pans and no packs of food on the pantry connected to the table. It didn’t look lived-in.

It was empty, to say the least.

Chrono put aside his concern for Ibuki’s lifestyle and tossed their shoes off. “Can you get to your bed?”

Ibuki mumbled some sort of affirmation. Chrono led him to the bedroom door and left only after the older man had stumbled into the room safely. He heated some water and searched for a napkin, finding one in one of the shelves, untouched. While waiting for the water to boil, he went to check on Ibuki in the bedroom, and sighed at the sight of a grown man sprawled in full attire on a bed.

The bed wasn’t made up and the blanket was thrown off the floor. A number of clothes were crumpled right at the bottom of the wardrobe, whose doors were open and content spilled out. It was probably the first sign of living Chrono had seen inside the apartment.

He strode to sit beside Ibuki on the bed and patted his back. “Go change out of your clothes, it’s nasty.”

As Ibuki sighed and sat up, unbuttoning his shirt one by one, Chrono squinted his eyes at the unorganised piles inside the wardrobe. Settling on the first piece of white T-shirt and sweatpants he could see, Chrono then turned around, and shrieked.

Ibuki had taken off his top and was in the middle of unzipping his trousers. He looked up at Chrono’s shriek and stared. “What’s wrong.”

Chrono dumped the change of clothes on Ibuki’s lap and ran out of the room, careful enough not to slip on his socks.

He was probably still screaming and just didn’t know it because his heartbeat was going thousands miles per hour now, tearing his chest apart.

There was no logical reason whatsoever to get all worked up over such a lanky body. Chrono gritted his teeth. His face was flushed, and when he pressed his hands on his cheeks, it was warm.

Leaning on the single-door refrigerator, Chrono regulated his breathing. He needed the tension gone, and the boiled water proved a worthy distraction. The stove was turned off; the water was poured into a water basin (once again found in one of the shelves, untouched). He waited until the water was not too hot to touch, and dipped the clean napkin into it. Considering the amount of time it took for him to wait it out, Ibuki must have finished changing by now. It would be safe to enter the bedroom again.

It was safe. Ibuki had obediently changed, although he threw his dirty clothes on the floor without reservation. His hair was pooling around his head, and the very view disgusted Chrono to no end. He slammed the water basin on the floor next to the bed.

“Sit up for a bit.” he told Ibuki, handing him the squeezed wet napkin.

After Ibuki managed a nod, Chrono dove through Ibuki’s wardrobe piles for the second time and found a piece of long fabric seemingly discarded from a shirt. Ushering Ibuki closer, he ran his fingers through the hair half-heartedly and tied it up with the cloth.

“There, now. Doesn’t that look better? Why don’t you tie up your hair more often?” Chrono commented, grabbing the napkin from Ibuki’s hand. “You can lie down.”

Ibuki did exactly that, without much, or even any, complaining. Chrono slipped Ibuki’s hair to the side and pressed the wet napkin on his forehead. Standing up, Chrono admired his handiwork.

Now Ibuki’s clothes were on their way to being drenched with sweats, and his laboured breathing was another source of concern for Chrono. Ibuki, who used to stand tall at the end of the road, was now in a graceless heap on his bed, eyelids heavy and fingers limp.

“Do you have thermometer?” Chrono asked, after a while of staring.

“Maybe. In the first aid box in the bathroom?” Ibuki said, his voice hoarse.

Chrono made a stop at the kitchen for a glass of water, and found a thermometer on the shelf above the towel rack in the bathroom.

“37.5 °C,” Chrono said, wincing. “Well. This is it. You should stay home until it breaks.”

Ibuki groaned. Chrono strongly sympathised.

“I will make some porridge. You must at least have rice, right?” Chrono asked, dusting his uniform. “You don’t need to eat it now, but you can always heat it up when you do.”

Ibuki mumbled something inaudible. “You don’t have to do so much,” was what Chrono could make out when he came closer.

Hands on hips, Chrono shot Ibuki an utterly disbelieving glare. “If I didn’t want this, I would leave you alone to rot, trust me. Just shut up and let me do my things.”

“You sure are a handful,” Ibuki said, but the energy he exerted was low, and his smile was weakly engineered.

“A helpful hand,” Chrono corrected.

While he was at it, Chrono took it upon himself to put Ibuki’s bedroom into order. The dirty clothes were stuffed away to be laundered, the blanket thrown over the bed, the piles inside the wardrobe organised by types, and changes of bed sheets placed on the bedside table. As it turned out, Ibuki had the common sense of storing a tumbler in the kitchen, so Chrono filled it with water and put it alongside the cooling water basin.

He sat on one end of the bed afterwards, fumbling with his fingers.

Ibuki looked asleep, rested. There was a certain weakness in the way he laid so vulnerably in clothes Chrono had never seen him in. The room, too, it radiated the same feelings Ibuki did; it was quiet and closed, containing only what was deemed necessary.

Chrono was lonely.

He made to stand, stretching his legs.

“Shindou,” Ibuki called out. It wasn’t loud enough to be considered a shout, but it didn’t have the composition of a normal volume.

Frozen, Chrono turned to face him, strangely feeling somewhat like a deer in headlights.

“Are you going home?” Ibuki asked. Slowly, almost indignant.

“Um, yeah. It’s getting late.” Chrono replied. Just as slowly, unsure.

Ibuki struggled to lift his hand, but he did, and put his palm face up. By reflex, Chrono placed his own hand on top of Ibuki’s.

“Don’t go,” Ibuki said. Had he not been sick, and standing firm with his arms crossed in waiting, it would have sounded like an order. “Stay here.”

Chrono blinked rapidly.

“I can’t afford to let a student walk home alone this late at night,” Ibuki said, coughing at the end of his sentence. Chrono hurried to give him the tumbler, still starstruck. As if there hadn’t been any interruption whatsoever, Ibuki continued, “Tell your aunt you’re staying over. You can go to school from here tomorrow morning.”

“Oh,” Chrono looked down at the tumbler in his hand, and then at Ibuki, who had raised an eyebrow in expectation. “Then I will, uh, take the couch?”

“There is,” _cough_ , “an extra blanket in the closet.”

“I know.”

He glided for the wardrobe and pulled out the blanket in question, mind hammering with embarrassment ( _and disappointment?_ ). Of course, _of course_ Ibuki was trying to be a responsible adult. He had been asserting his maturity status for Chrono throughout the whole day. This was just another point on the list.

Chrono had almost forgotten, with the way Ibuki had continuously leant onto him.

“Shindou,” Ibuki muttered. From where Chrono was standing, Ibuki’s eyes fluttered closed, and for a moment he thought Ibuki had simply mumbled his name in sleep.

“Ibuki,” Chrono murmured, taking one soft step towards the bed.

“Shindou,” Ibuki said, again, and Chrono knew Ibuki was awake.

He nodded, lifted the blanket in his hand, and gestured for the couch out in the living room.

Ibuki dragged his head sideways, a plastered smile on his face. It wasn’t the widest he could’ve managed, but the words embedded onto it bled into Chrono’s inside. “Thank you.”

There were stars in his chest.

It occured to him right there and then, that he wasn’t about to wait for Ibuki’s permission. He was well on his way to keep himself rooted onto this place. He would have stayed, no matter what Ibuki had wanted him to do.

Chrono gave a grin in response, one shoulder pressed on the door frame.

“Don’t worry.”

 

 

 

 

The weather was against him right from the very start.

The rain fell violently onto the ground, its loud drops echoed across the area. Leaves bowed over its appearance, and the sun shyly peeked beyond one of the dark clouds. The roads were littered with canopies of various colours and patterns, all moving in similar direction towards the station. Occasionally there were some that moved faster than the others, splashing water all around.

“I’m borrowing your umbrella,” Chrono said, fixing his collar.

“Don’t catch a cold,” Ibuki said matter-of-factly. It was experience talking, still laid up in bed with newly changed compress slapped on his forehead.

“Yes, yes.” Chrono chuckled. “I’m off, then.”

Ibuki gave a weak wave.

“I will toss the key into your mailbox.” Chrono shouted, slipping on his shoes, tapping on the floor a few times to ensure it was tightened. “There is porridge in the kitchen. You can at least heat it up, can you?”

“Don’t worry,” Ibuki croaked. It was enough of a miracle that it could’ve been heard from the front door.

The black umbrella in hand, Chrono threw the door open. A sudden gale washed over him.

“I will need to return your umbrella later!” Chrono called out, hoping his voice could be carried over the rainfall, “See you, old man!”

The key tinkled against the metal of the mailbox.

**Author's Note:**

> the work title is from adhitia sofyan's midnight. ( _stay a while/fill my hollow_ )


End file.
